Wildflower (Colors #4) (8 page)

She inhaled through her nose and stood up, placing her hands on the counter. “Well, you know I’m here, right? If you ever need to talk, or anything, really.”

I grinned at my old friend, thankful to have her back in my life after too long. “Yeah, babe. I know. Now enough of this heavy shit. We’re in the happiest place on earth!” I declared, waving my arms out to my sides.

“Pretty sure that’s supposed to be Disney World.”

“Bullshit. You have every pastry under the sun and an espresso machine that rivals Starbucks. This is officially my happy place. Whenever I’m having a bad day, or my period, I’m just going to close my eyes and imagine this place.”

The bell over the door chimed and what started as a normal Chloe laugh quickly turned into some strange choking sound as her creamy complexion instantly grew red. “Oh my God,” she breathed, her glassy eyes focused on something over my shoulder.

I spun around to see who had caught her attention and my jaw instantly hit the floor. “Holy walking ovary-exploder, Batman,” I whispered as I took in the man who’d just walked through the door. Sexy didn’t even come close to describing him. His tall, well-built body was encased in the town’s khaki Deputy’s uniform. The drab, unappealing color of the pants and the puffy brown jacket looked horrible on most people, but the way the uniform pants hugged his muscular thighs and ass when he turned his back to us only made him look even better.

“Jesus, Chlo,” I spun back around and found my friend staring wide-eyed at the man. He’d been stopped by some of the other customers in the bakery, smiling and talking in low voices I couldn’t quite make out. “Who
is
that?”

Her voice sounded awestruck as she answered. “Derrick Anderson. He moved here last year after a nasty divorce and custody battle. I’ve seen him around town with his little girl.” She let out a dreamy sigh. “He’s such a good daddy.”

My lips tilted up in a huge smile. “Oh my God, you like him!” I squealed.

“Shh!” she hushed me, leaning in close so no one around could hear. “Will you keep your voice down? How old are we, thirteen?”

I couldn’t help myself, my friend was totally crushing on the sexy-as-sin Deputy and it was impossible not to tease her. “Derrick and Chloe sitting in a tree. K. I. S. S. I. N—Ow! Jesus!” I yelped, rubbing at the spot on my bicep where she pinched the shit out of me. “What the hell, Chloe?”

“That’s what you deserved,” she whisper-yelled. “Now shut your stupid face hole! He’s coming over here!”

I stifled a giggle just as a rich, thick voice dripping with charm that could melt the panties off of any woman spoke from just over my shoulder.

“Hey there, sunshine.”

“
Sunshine
?” I mouthed at Chloe as she grew even redder.

“H-hi,” she stuttered before clearing her throat and trying again. “Hi, Derrick, how are you?”

“I’m good. Be better if I could get a cup of coffee.”

“Oh… uh, sure,” she stumbled over her words. It was so adorable watching her get all flustered over a man. “Black?”

“Yep. In a to-go cup, if you don’t mind.”

Her back turned toward us as he stepped up to the counter right next to me. I looked out the corner of my eye to get a better look at him up close.

“Hello,” he said, drawing my full attention.

“Hi.” I smiled. Man, if the guy was hot from a distance, he was completely disarming up close. He was older. Not by much, but definitely in his early thirties if the smile lines around his face and the tiny hints of gray in his closely buzzed hair was any indication.

“Okay, here you go.” Chloe’s smile was blindingly bright, if not somewhat goofy.

“Ah, you’re a lifesaver. Nothing better than your coffee, sweetheart.”

I didn’t think it was possible for my friend to turn any redder, but obviously I was wrong. She giggled, and… oh, dear baby Jesus, was that a snort?

Yep, by the way Chloe’s eyes grew wide and Derrick chuckled lightly, she most definitely just snorted. I wanted to save her, I really did. But watching the train wreck that was happening in front of me was just too damned entertaining.

“Well,” Derrick started, taking a step back from the counter as he lifted his cup in the air. “Thanks for to coffee. See ya around.”

“Yeah. You too!” Chloe returned, a little too loudly, as he stepped out the door and into the cold.

As soon as the door closed behind him, cutting out the frigid air from outside, Chloe’s head fell onto the counter top with a thud and an, “Oh God.”

“That went well,” I spoke cheerfully.

“Shut up,” she muttered, thumping her head against the hard wood a couple times before looking up at me. “It wasn’t that bad, right?”

The hope in her voice made my voice go high as I lied, “No, of course not,”

She dropped her head and thumped it a few more times. “It was.”

“Yeah, hon,” I told her honestly, sliding my hand between her forehead and the wood to prevent any long-term damage. “It really was.”

She heaved a sigh and took the order of a customer that just walked up. Over the next few minutes, the crowd seemed to really pick up so I decided to head out and let her get back to it.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah. Are you sure you don’t want me to bring anything?”

I slipped on my coat as I glanced back at one of the pastry cases. “Desserts. Lots and lots of desserts.”

“Fuck you, Bobby Flay! Fuck you straight to hell!” I shouted at the computer as that stupid bastard talked about how
easy
cooking a turkey was. The son of a bitch was a stupid liar.

As Bobby prattled on about how the skin should be a golden brown and the bird was almost ready to come out of the oven, I had the immense desire to reach through my laptop screen and choke the life out of the dick for being so full of shit.

I pulled the foil back, closing my eyes and shooting up a quick prayer that the turkey had somehow miraculously cooked completely in the five minutes that had passed since I last checked it. Nope, still frozen.

“Cook, you stupid bird! Why won’t you cook? This is what you were born for!”

“Uh… what’s going on?”

I spun around to find Ethan standing in the doorway of the kitchen, a nervous expression on his face. Not that I blamed him for his concern, really. I was sure I looked like a psychopath standing there in Grammy’s lime green apron, congealed mac and cheese stuck in my hair, food covering me from top-to-toe like an abstract painting, turkey baster in hand being wielded like a sword.

The day had started off so well that morning. I woke up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to tackle Thanksgiving dinner like a culinary pro, but somewhere along the way things started going wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong. It was as if the food was fighting back, revolting against the idea of being cooked to delicious perfection. My good mood went right down the drain—along with my metal slotted spoon that I couldn’t get loose from the garbage disposal—and I wanted to punch Thanksgiving in the throat for being an asshole.

“The oven’s broken,” I answered.

“But I just made a frozen pizza last night. It worked fine then.”

“Well it’s broken now!” I shouted, taking all of my anger and frustration out on my poor, unsuspecting little brother.

With hesitant steps, he bravely joined me in the kitchen, standing next to me and studying the old-school nobs on the piece of shit double oven. “Um, Low-Low?”

“What?”

“You set the temp on the bottom oven, not the top one.” Pulling the door of the bottom oven—the oven
not
containing the turkey—he released a gust of heat to prove his point. “And what’s wrong with that key lime pie?”

“Nothing’s wrong with it,” I gritted through clenched teeth.

“I’m pretty sure it’s not supposed to sink in the middle like that.” Ethan poked at the top of the pie, his face scrunched up in disgust. “And it’s all chunky. Gram’s pies never looked like this.”

I inhaled through my nose, counting to ten in my head before I responded. “Ethan?”

“Yeah?”

My words were low and measured as I threatened, “If you don’t get out of this kitchen right now, I’m going to shove that chunky pie down your throat and beat you with a frozen turkey leg.”

“I’m out,” he replied wisely before disappearing from the kitchen with the speed of an Olympic sprinter.

Bobby’s voice cut through the sound of blood rushing in my ears. “
Now, all that’s left is to carve this baby up and serve it to the family. Mmmm, that’s delicious!
”

“Go to hell, you bastard!” I yelled at the screen. “I hope your turkey’s undercooked and you get
E. coli
and die of dysentery!”

The hushed, “Wow,” that came from behind me startled me out of my rant and had me spinning around so fast the turkey baster in my hand went flying, crashing into something on the stovetop that quickly, and quite surprisingly, burst into flames on impact.

“Shit! Fire!” I screeched, “Fire, fire, fire! Ethan, get some water!”

In all the chaos, I hadn’t had a chance to grasp the fact that Noah was standing in my kitchen. Clearly, someone was playing a cruel joke on me. Or I’d done something epically wrong to piss off the Thanksgiving Gods and they were trying to murder my ass.

As casual as could be, Noah walked over to the stovetop, picked up a discarded pot lid from the counter and snuffed the fire out in mere seconds.

“Grease fire,” he said with a shrug. “Can’t use water on those. You have to smother them.”

“What are you doing here?” I blurted out in lieu of a
thanks for saving my house from burning to the ground
.

The grin he shot me should have been made illegal. Better yet, it most
definitely
shouldn’t have made my skin tingle and my belly dip.

What the ever-loving hell
?

“I was invited.”

“By who?” I asked in high-pitched shock. Then it dawned on me that Ethan was noticeably absent, and even more noticeable was the fact that, for the first time since returning home, I couldn’t hear the TV/music/video game blaring throughout the entire house. “I’m going to murder that kid.”

Noah held his hands up in a placating gesture. “Now, just calm down, wildflower—”

“I’m calm!” I snapped. “Totally calm! I’m so calm I’m the definition of the word!”

His lips lifted even higher, taking his grin to a full-blown smile that rocked me to my very core. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Seeing him smile again—a smile I’d fallen in love with as a girl—wasn’t supposed to have a hold on me any longer. And the fact that I felt my stomach clench at the sight of it only stoked the flames of my anger.

Damn him for being so stupidly sexy!

Stepping away from the stovetop, and the now extinguished fire, he came so close I could smell him. That distinct smell of the outdoors and clean cotton combined with just a hint of spice, something all Noah’s, hit me with the force of a Mack-truck. Emotions I’d tamped down for years warred with each other inside me. I couldn’t tell if I wanted to scream, cry, cuss, or throw myself against him and sniff long and hard. That stupid fucking scent was imprinted on my brain, bringing back a whole slew of memories, both good and bad.

“I’m sorry,” he offered softly. “Don’t blame Ethan. It’s not his fault, he’s just a clueless kid, Harlow. He didn’t know what he was doing when he invited me, I swear. The last thing I wanted to do was make you uncomfortable by coming here.”

“Then why are you here?”

His warm tawny eyes went soft, full of regret and sadness as his gaze scanned over my face. The intensity was too much. I had to look away. Casting my eyes down, I saw Noah’s hands clenched in tight fists at his side, as though he was trying hard to control himself from reaching out and touching me.

“Because I want to make things right.”

His answer surprised me. My head moved of its own accord, my eyes training on his as I searched them for honesty. Nothing but sincerity stared back at me as he continued. “Because you’re back in Pembrooke and I can’t stand the idea of you turning and walking in the other direction any time our paths cross. I owe you so much more than an apology, and I know saying I’m sorry won’t make up for what I put you through, but I
am
, Harlow. I’m so damn sorry for hurting you. I want us to be able to live here without that hovering over us for the rest of our lives. I don’t want you to hate me.”